


You And Me And The Devil Makes Three

by Enedda



Series: A Study in Marcus [1]
Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: M/M, brooding with a side of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 23:12:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enedda/pseuds/Enedda
Summary: Marcus doing what he does best. Drawing and brooding :)





	You And Me And The Devil Makes Three

* The lyrics in the italics come from the song "Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby" by Emmylou Harris. Love it to pieces!

 

CLICK.

_Your momma's gone away and your daddy's gonna stay_

_Didn't leave nobody but the baby_

Marcus is drawing in his Bible again. He always is, but not always using his hands to do so. His thoughts are black and white, laying down charcoal paths before his eyes. Trees can rise and fall like graphite sticks, the sun can be a deep, deep hole in the pale, ghostly sky. This is his memory, the only thing that kept him sane through the years of service. He always thought of this as his gift, the possibility of creation exclusive to him. Intimate like a prayer. He doesn't see that his hands are covered in pencil dust and start smearing the borders of the pages again, adding a little halo to the frames.

_Everybody's gone in the cotton and the corn_

_Didn't leave nobody but the baby_

He looks up for a second, lost in thoughts. His hand stops outlining a bird he's decided to add in the last minute to the gospel of John. Light and darkness. The very fight he decided to sacrifice his life for. No chiaroscuro, no fading hues of the sunset even. And he loves sunsets. Warm sunlight on his frozen skin.

_Honey in the rock and the sugar don't stop_

_Gonna bring a bottle to the baby_

_Don't you weep pretty baby_

There is a secret in his Bible, hidden deep within its pages. He holds the same secret in his mind, his heart. He is not able to understand it, and he tried. God, he has tried. He has spent countless hours awake - pretending to sleep -  lost in prayer until his knuckles forgot their colour. Until he almost didn't know his name anymore and all he was hearing was the ever-repeated question: how?

_She's long gone with her red shoes on_

_Gonna need another loving baby_

_Go to sleep little baby_

He looks down, not sure what he's feeling. He must have started crying because the page is stained now and the birds have their own little, frayed halos. He tries to wipe the page, it's a Bible, after all, but it makes it even worse. Now the Gospel is grey. Fifty shades of God.

_You and me and the devil makes three_

_Don't need no other lovin' baby_

_Go to sleep little baby_

Maybe that is his answer. Light and darkness and a million shades in between. Like this little image, little secret adorning the Song of Songs. A miniature portrait in dark, warm golden pencil stolen from somewhere, the only colour he has ever used. A memory of light reflecting on Tomas' profile on one tiring day, filled with horrors. Black was too black. White seemed inappropriate. 

_Come lay bones on the alabaster stones_

_And be my everlovin' baby_

He looks at the birds on the ruined page, crumpled like tissue paper. With a smile, he reaches for the pencil again.

"Marcus, where are you, hermano? I have coffee! And... you won't believe, it's actually decent! In a hole like this... a miracle!"

You are a miracle, hermano.

And my birds fly on dark, warm-coloured, golden wings.

_Go to sleep little baby._

CLICK.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
